Vigorous Restitution: A Sunken Debt
by TheDaedricPrinceOfCrossovers
Summary: Revenge. Nothing but a blazing, swirling ball of anger rages inside of Elizabeth Comstock. It was the reason she still drew breath, and also the reason she hated herself. But everything changes when a strange man with chain tattoos on his wrists shows up and the Luteces whisk her away to a place beyond the sea. CONTINUATION OF VIGOROUS RESTITUTION. Read that first,
1. Prologue

"Oi! Another round on Jackson!"

In small pub on the corner of Bowery and Grand in Manhattan, a twenty year-old Percy Jackson was enjoying a beverage.

He and a couple of his Pinkerton buddies went out for drinks almost every night. Beer generally tasted like fermented deer piss in comparison to liquor, but it went down easier and gave you the same end product. And that was all the demigod cared about.

Inside the bar, smoke filled the room as lower class men and women mucked about, smoking and drinking. An Irish band was playing a tune, and a few of the bar patrons were dancing. Percy didn't dance.

Just down the street, his infant daughter of barely a year - Anna, named after her mother - was sleeping under the watchful eye of Ms. Hobbes. That woman was a godsend. Percy was... having issues in kicking the boozing and gambling, despite his best efforts.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. "Mister?"

Percy turned to see a woman of maybe twenty looking up at him. Through his jumbled, alcohol-inhibited visions he could vaguely make out that she was quite pretty, with dark hair and big eyes. "How can I help you?"

She swooned bashfully. "I couldn't help but notice that you seemed awful lonely."

The son of Poseidon's eyes widened. Was she coming on to him? The few men with him were wolf-whistling. "I don't know what would give you that impression, miss."

After a quick giggle, she grabbed his arm playfully. "You've been standing there all night, looking mighty sad. And I'm without a man... if you're looking to pass the time."

It wouldn't exactly be faithful to Annabeth... but she was dead now, and Percy had definitely missed a warm body next to him. And the girl seemed insistent... "Alright then, miss. Let's go on back to my apartment."

"Attaboy, Jackson!" A Pinkerton said happily.

Percy led the girl - who stayed on his arm - outside and into the streets of New York. "Mister, could we stop for a moment in that alleyway? So we can get acquainted proper?" She asked delicately.

Perhaps in a proper state of mind, Percy would have asked why it needed to be an alleyway, but he was too enamored with the prospect of the night's events to care. "We sure can, miss."

The two turned down the alleyway, and the girl let go of Percy's arm. "What's your name, mister?"

"Percy Jackson. And yours?"

The girl put her hands on her hips. "Elizabeth."

"That's a pretty name."

The young woman stopped her smile. "You don't remember me, do you?" Elizabeth said coldly. She pulled a handgun from the folds of skirt. "Maybe this'll jog your memory."

The demigod put his hands in the air and backed up against a brick wall. "I don't know what this is about, miss, but-"

"Look at me, Mr. Jackson. Look me in the eyes."

Percy squinted, and gasped as he finally saw her eyes - big and blue. Just like... "Anna?" He asked in awe.

"No. I'm not Anna Jackson anymore. You _sold _me, to pay off your debts." Percy's mind shifted. He... he... "When you came to rescue me, _you failed."_

Suddenly, Percy remembered.

He remembered giving his daughter away to a stranger. He... he remembered being hired to go find her in a floating city.

And lastly, he recalled being killed at a... a raffle. A rotary blade dug into his skull. He'd failed.

But... if he'd done that, how could he be alive? Raising Anna?

"You were given a second chance, though you don't deserve one." Elizabeth had the pistol trained between the demigod's eyes. "You don't deserve Anna. You don't deserve to live."

"No... I have a daughter at home... please..."

Elizabeth scoffed and cocked the gun. "Really? And you show how much you love her by drinking and gambling away all the money you could've spent on toys and food? She's better off without you. _Every_ Anna is."

"No... please... I'm so sorry, child..."

And she pulled the trigger. Percy Jackson fell over dead.

* * *

Elizabeth regarded the dead man coldly.

She put away her gun, and leaned back against the wall. She reached for her pack of cigarettes and pulled one out, only to find that she'd lost her lighter. Oh well. She reached into Percy's pocket and plucked out his antique. She flicked it open and lit the cigarette.

She dragged on the wretched thing, and looked down at her father's - no, _Percy Jackson's_ - body. The son of a bitch deserved it every time.

Time didn't move in a straight line for her anymore, so she couldn't say for certain exactly how long she'd been doing... this... for. Being able to open Tears at will and use the Sea of Doors with ease messed with her sense of time.

The only others remotely like her were Robert and Rosalind Lutece, and Elizabeth tended to keep to herself and act on her own motives. Robert had argued against what Elizabeth was doing, but she didn't care. She was angry.

The Luteces were still an enigma to her. They had _more _power than her, but at the same time, it felt less. They called themselves 'Infinite', whatever that meant. Elizabeth was still mortal; still aged, still could die. They were essentially deities.

She took another drag of the cigarette and moved a strand of hair out of her face. She wasn't sure how long she'd stay here. Or where she'd go next.

Paris, maybe?

Despite being completely, she still hadn't visited the city. She wasn't sure why - it just hadn't felt right to her. Maybe this time, that was where she'd go.

"Miss Comstock." Came a curt voice to her left. Elizabeth froze. Two things crossed her mind - she was holding a gun and a dead man was at her feet, and the fact that someone could know her last name. She _never _used it.

An individual walked up to her, not taking note of the dead body at her feet. He wore a pale yellow sweater that was pulled up to his mid-forearms, revealing what seemed to be chain tattoos on his wrists. He was around her age, with brown eyes and hair. He seemed to be unarmed.

Elizabeth held her ground and blew out a cloud of smoke. "And who are you?"

The man shrugged. "My name isn't important. You mind pulling me a weed?" The woman looked at him blankly, not familiar with the slang. He sighed. "Can I have a cigarette?"

"Not until you tell me your name."

"Jack. You can call me Jack." Elizabeth pulled out her pack and handed the man a fag. He took it. "How 'bout a light?"

Elizabeth shook her head. "No. You asked for a cigarette, nothing more."

Jack shook his head and smiled. "Smart girl. I've been told your mother was a genius."

A handgun was soon leveled at the smug man. Elizabeth wasn't sure who this man thought he was, but he knew far too much. She tossed away her cigarette. "Who are you, really? How do you know my name?"

He kept looking at her calmly, and put the unlit cigarette in his pocket. "Miss Comstock, please hear me out."

"Don't call me Miss Comstock."

"Would you prefer Miss Jackson?"

_"Don't you dare call me that." _She said harshly, not moving her aim.

Jack chuckled. "We're pretty similar, you and I."

Elizabeth cocked an eyebrow. "And how do you figure that?"

"We have both have more than one father."

She dropped her gun arm and stared at him shock. "Who are you? How do you know these things about me? And... I don't have a father."

"Really? Then why do you use one of your father's name? And more prudently... why don't you use the other's?"

She glared at him. "You're not answering my questions."

Jack sighed. "You've got Daddy issues, just like I do. But soon-"

Elizabeth brought her gun to his head. He took a step back. "WHO. ARE. YOU?"

"A friend."

"ANSWER MY QUESTION, DAMMIT!"

Her voice was cracking, from a combination of anger and fear. He was dragging up all of her insecurities. "Before I answer you, Elizabeth, I have one more thing to ask you."

She seethed, but nodded. "What?" She asked through clenched teeth.

"How long have you been hunting down versions of your father?"

"He's NOT my father!"

Jack rolled his eyes. "Is _that _how you're justifying it? Really? Whether you're willing to admit that you've done wrong or not, you can't deny it. Percy Jackson is your dad, no way around it. Unless you consider Zachary Comstock your father."

A single tear fell down Elizabeth's cheek as she dropped her handgun. "I don't know how many versions of him I've killed."

"Eighty-six. You've caused eighty-six versions of your father to die. You've spent a year of your life doing this."

Elizabeth tried to control her breathing. "Every single time, he's deserved it. For being Comstock. For selling me."

Jack put his hand on her shoulder, but she shook it away. "Ah. No touching. Got it." He pulled out the cigarette and looked at Elizabeth expectantly. "Can I please have a light now?"

Elizabeth grunted and lit the cancer stick. Jack took a drag from his cigarette and looked at the woman in front of him. "You want to know who I am?"

Her expectant expression answered the question.

"I'm very much like you. My mother sold me as an embryo to a man who thought he could use me. Then, my biological father killed my mother out of rage." He breathed out a cloud of smoke. "Now do you see how we're the same?"

Elizabeth nodded slowly. "I suppose."

Jack was apparently tired of his smoke, and tossed it aside. _Great to know he wasted it,_ Elizabeth thought angrily. "Now here's the difference between you and I. I don't know who my father or mother is. I don't know who I was sold to." He took a deep breath of the smokey air. "I didn't even _know _about this until recently."

The woman felt a pang of sympathy. She remembered things back before she saw all the doors - back before she knew that Percy was her biological parent. But still, she wasn't moved. "You mind telling me why I should care about this?"

Jack laughed dryly. "Right now, there's no way that I can resolve things. I'm not in contact with my parents, and there's no way I can figure it all out with the current circumstances. You _could..._ I suppose it was foolish of me to think you would help me."

"You're right."

The man shrugged. "Sorry for bothering you then, miss."

He walked away, and Elizabeth got to pondering what that whole exchange was about. He still hadn't explained how he'd known about her. Or about Percy... she shivered, thinking about Jack's words. She was... she was doing the right thing. These Percys deserved everything she'd done to them.

Her father had died to wipe out the Comstocks. All these men she killed... they weren't her father in any way.

The Lutece Twins appeared next to her. "How are you doing, Miss Comstock?" Robert asked kindly.

"That's not my name." Elizabeth insisted.

The two Brits flashed looks down at Percy Jackson's cooling corpse. "I suppose this one deserved it in your mind as well?" Rosalind asked delicately.

Elizabeth spit on his body. "All of them deserve it."

The two shared a glance. Robert cleared his throat. "We have a task for you, Elizabeth."

"And why should I help you?"

Regardless of her snarky response, a Tear opened up over Percy's body. Elizabeth squinted into it, before gasping. It was the city under the ocean - Rapture. From her knowledge of the city, the vengeful daughter could tell that the Tear was probably sometime in the 1950s. "What's going on? Why is this job you have for me here?"

Robert smiled slightly. "What's the issue? Having trouble seeing behind the doors?"

Elizabeth furrowed her eyebrows. "What are you..."

Suddenly, she hit a mental wall.

The doors _were gone._

"What's going on?" She demanded.

Rosalind smirked. "Think of it as a slice of humble pie, served to you by us."

Elizabeth stamped her foot in frustration. She knowing... everything... now, without being able to see all the doors... she felt naked. She couldn't even see _Tears._ "How can you do that?"

"Two heads are better than one."

Robert sighed dramatically. "If only you had a way to mend this without our aid."

Rosalind gestured to the Tear. "Your answer is inside Rapture. Go there, and do what comes naturally. Then you will know our meaning."

And they dissapeared, leaving the Tear open. It shimmered, as if inviting her. Elizabeth picked up her handgun and regarded the rift in reality. The Luteces weren't giving her much of a choice, were they? "Traitorous bastards..." She muttered.

Without the doors... She could only remember very basic things about Rapture - she knew that the place was underwater, obviously. The place was essentially the anti-Columbia in every way. Atheist. Free-market.

Well, Elizabeth hated Columbia. If Rapture was the opposite, maybe it'd suit her better.

She sighed, and rubbed her head. She wasn't used to not understanding things... and it bothered her. Imagine having access to the greatest library on earth, but then you'd have to forget it all in a day. That's what this felt like to her.

She glanced down at her attire. In order to better fit in with the usual New York bar crowd, she'd changed her clothes by merely creating a Tear and plucking out an outift - a nifty power, back when she could use it. She wore a simple white blouse and a long grey wool skirt. Her hair was long, which was how she preferred it. Now... she couldn't merely will herself to change.

A liquid dribbled out of her nose. Elizabeth put her hand to it in horror... blood. She... she didn't get nosebleeds. Percy used to get them all the time, back in Columbia... this wasn't good.

Elizabeth sighed and kicked the corpse. "Damn you."

These Percy Jacksons deserved nothing other than a swift death. The only version of him that was worth a damn lied dead... and was it all due to his stupid sense of duty. After everything he'd done to her, she STILL would have forgiven him. But noooooo. He had to die to give all the other versions of himself a second chance.

A choice he'd made without giving a second thought to what would become of Elizabeth. She didn't belong anywhere. Her entire life had been one huge period of loneliness that was interrupted by a short few days of companionship, and then back to loneliness.

She couldn't exactly take revenge on a deadman for abandoning her, but killing eighty-six versions of him definitely helped her feel better.

_"Kid, you will NOT become me."_

She cocked the firearm that was in her hand and raised it to her temple... before letting it fall to the ground.

She looked at the Tear skeptically. This seemed to be the only way to go, no matter how much Elizabeth didn't want to give an inch to the Luteces. She still didn't understand exactly how they had neutered her powers like that, and she didn't like that she was... outnumbered, for lack of a better term.

This was a horrible situation.

And she stepped through the Tear.


	2. One: A Rapture Gal

**'Ello. ****I'd like to inform you, my lovely readers, about the updating schedule I've assumed.**

**On Mondays/Tuesday, this story will be updated. On Thursdays/Fridays, The Rise of the Dragon King shall be updated.**

**Continue on.**

The voices started again.

_"Elizabeth... Anna..."_

_No... go away..._

_"Kid... Anna... I'm sorry. I'm so damn sorry about... everything. I've made your life hell. Your imprisonment..._

_"No! Kid... you are the __only _thing in my life. You remember what I said about love? I couldn't live without you. I made a mistake! I love you so goddamn much, I... I came back for you! I rescued you!"

_GET OUT OF MY HEAD! GET OUT, YOU DAMNED PSYCHOPATH! I KILLED YOU! YOU'RE DEAD!_

_"Anna, please... give me another chance..."_

_LEAVE ME ALONE! CAN'T YOU JUST LEAVE ME ALONE?! _

And then it faded to black.

* * *

Elizabeth appeared in the middle of a restaurant. A sign told her that is was called the Silver Fin.

The place was relatively full, and the girl that was cast out of time stood in the center of it all, awkwardly. Everyone stared at the girl in the bizarre dress who appeared out of nowhere. Elizabeth froze, unsure of what to do, and barely able to rip her head away from her father's haunting voice.

The silence was absolutely deafening. Elizabeth casually took a step towards to door. "I'll just, umm... I'll be on my way."

She quickly dashed out of the eating establishment and out into a big atrium. The place didn't look too much like a city - more like a shopping center. She was pretty unacquainted with 1950s culture - she liked staying in the 1880s-1920s range in terms of time. The amount of smoke that seemed to be everywhere was standard, and she was used to the unfiltered air. But the most alien thing was the culture itself. The bright lights and music of Rapture were nearly overwhelming as she continued to move quickly. Perhaps it was then when Elizabeth realized just how lost she was.

She couldn't see the doors, she had no goal, and no clear direction. She was a girl lost in a city of lights. She could practically hear the Luteces laughing at her.

And in the back of her mind, she knew Jack had something to do with this. It couldn't be total coincidence.

She wasn't sure where exactly she was or what she was doing here, but the intelligent first step would be to find a change of clothes - something a bit more Rapture-appropriate.

_"Head to Cupid's Arrow."_

Elizabeth almost stopped on the spot from the sudden voice in her head. It sounded... vaguely familiar, but she couldn't place it. The voice belonged to a woman, but she didn't exactly have a lot of those in her life. The only one was Rosalind, and the voice wasn't accented. Strange...

The voices in her head... was she going legitimately crazy?

Either way, the voice had just given her an answer. Cupid's Arrow. That was where she was headed. After a quick walk through a hallway, she found herself face to face with a neon sign advertising for the place. She was confused about this place's purpose until she saw the advertisement to the left of the door.

**APPETITE FOR SIN! See the temptations of Rapture through the eyes of a midwest girl!**

And the one to the right:

**BIG DADDY! Rapture's man of steel! He works hard... but plays HARDER!"**

Both featured drawings of scantily clad individuals... wait... was she seriously being sent to a sex shop? You had to be kidding... She went through the door to find the place empty, save for the clerk behind the counter. All around the shop were books and books and _books _of erotica. With such notable titles as "Gender-Bender", "Mother May I?", and "Below Decks".

"Hello, miss! Oh, _dios mio_..." The person behind the desk had a Hispanic accent and was as handsome as a man could be. "You're in need of some new clothing, my dear."

Elizabeth looked down at herself... even in 1894, this dress probably wasn't fashionable. It was pretty ugly, and definitely not like Rapture. "Yeah... umm..."

"Well, come on then! Let the masterful Antonio Rodriguez remake you into _una chica de Rapture_!"

As the man grabbed her hand, she began to stammer a protest. "Uhh... as nice as this is, I don't have any money..."

"Think nothing of it, my beautiful lady! The store is closing tomorrow, and the shop is empty."

She looked at him oddly. "Why is the store closing?"

Antonio gave her an incredulous look. "You haven't heard the news? My goodness... Fontaine's Department Store is closing tomorrow."

"Oh." Elizabeth guessed that the place she was in was the department store. She considered asking what day it was, but that would be a bit too obvious of a sign that she wasn't from Rapture. She was trying to blend in, not do the opposite.

Antonio led her into a area behind a stage... probably a stage for dancers, which wasn't reassuring to Elizabeth. "Let me see you, my lovely lady. Face me, and undress."

"Excuse me?"

He clicked his tongue and shook his head. "An artist must know his canvas before he begins to paint."

Elizabeth looked at him uncomfortably, and shook her head. "I'm not sure I'm okay with-"

"Come on, darling. Show me what you've got."

She quickly stripped down to her corset and underwear, blushing madly as Antonio circled her, examining her appearance. "Yes... yes! I can make you a goddess! A true beauty among the many beauties in our great city of Rapture."

She shifted awkwardly at the praise. "I don't want to-"

"Nonsense! When I'm done with you, you'll be able to wrap any man around your finger with a single glance."

* * *

"Can I open my eyes yet?" She asked impatiently.

"Not yet, my young Aphrodite." Antonio said, as he continued to do her makeup. He's been doing this forever - it was even more humiliating than when he'd put a blindfold on her as he dressed her. Hell, for all she knew, he was dressing her like a clown.

Aphrodite... an interesting choice of words. The Gods were of no interest to Elizabeth - she simply didn't care. The Luteces often liked to annoy the beings, but Elizabeth didn't see the purpose of that.

Antonio removed his hands. "Alright, my lady. Stand up. And then open your eyes."

Elizabeth did so, and then almost fainted.

She wore a relatively simple white blouse that hugged her torso tightly. The sleeves were long with black cuffs, and around her neck was a small red bow. On the bow was something that nearly made her cry - the bird pendent. The one Percy had picked out for her. On her lower half was a black skirt to her knees that accentuated her hips a bit more than she was comfortable with. Fishnet tights were on her exposed lower legs, and she wore a pair of black stilettos.

Her face was what scared her the most. She looked like she was made of porcelain - pale as the snow due to Antonio's work. Dark red lipstick came in contrast with that, as did some blue eye makeup. Her eyebrows were thinner - more feminine. Her hair was done up like all the popular movie stars of the day.

Yeah, she looked good. But she felt like an object - like a doll.

"I... I'm..."

Antonio clapped his hands. "You look absolutely _stunning,_ love."

_Love._

Suddenly, she was elsewhere.

* * *

"Remember!" Cried a horribly familiar voice. Comstock's. "No sedatives! No anesthetics!"

No... she... she couldn't be...

Two doctors looked down at her body, which was lying on a table. "Yes, Father Comstock. Prepare the syringe." Pettifog said grimly.

She was back in Columbia - in Comstock House. She was being prepped for surgery. How was she here? The doctor pulled a cable with a three-inch long needle on the end of it out from under a table. Elizabeth heard herself whimper, remembering the pain. "No... nonononono..." She pleaded desperately.

"Don't worry. It'll only hurt for a second, _love_."

As the tool sunk in between her shoulder blades, Elizabeth screamed in pain. She felt everything again - the vulnerability, the hopelessness... her only hope was for Percy to bust down the door to save her.

Pettifog and the other doctor, Powell, began to experiment on her while she cried and pleaded for them to stop. They injected her with various chemicals to see how her blood would react. They played with her pinkie stump, trying to figure out if that had any significance to her powers. She was hit a few times to check her reaction time. They even began to experiment with her private areas, seeing how her reproductive system had been affected.

Elizabeth was hyperventilating, feeling the pain for a second time. She'd tried to forget that this had happened to her... mainly because...

The door to the room was kicked open, and a sweaty man in his thirties burst into the room, shotgun at the ready. "COMSTOCK! WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO HER?" The man demanded. It was Percy Jackson, obviously.

The Prophet chuckled. "What's the expression, Mr. Jackson? 'A day late and a dollar short'?"

"I WILL SLAUGHTER YOU LIKE AN ANIMAL!"

Elizabeth looked weakly at the man, and barely managed to mutter, "Percy..."

"Shit!" Pettifog said as he gave Powell a panicked look. "Turn on the machine!"

The Siphon speaker-things sent beams of light at the tortured woman, who shook wildly with pain. It was... impossible to describe. "No. No! Turn it off! TURN IT OFF! PLEASE! Please, it hurts!"

Percy looked at her with fear on his face. "Kid, hold on! I-I'll be right there!"

Comstock's voice was heard over the PA. "Do you hear that screaming, Jackson? That is the sound of your interference! You've led my daughter into temptation!"

"SHE IS NOT YOUR DAUGHTER!"

"Perhaps not now. But trust me... she will be."

* * *

She was back in Rapture. In the new clothing.

"My dear, are you alright?" Antonio asked with concern, taking her arm. "You spaced out, and looked ever so frightened."

Elizabeth looked at her reflection with determination. She was in Rapture. She was strong. She wasn't in danger. She didn't need Percy Jackson to rescue her. "I'm sorry, Mr. Rodriguez, I just-"

"Antonio, my goddess." The man insisted.

"Antonio." Elizabeth took a deep breath. She needed a smoke. "Just... remembering my past, is all. Thank you for your kindness."

She really did owe the man money - he'd done her a big service, as the clothes were most likely expensive. The fact that he hadn't charged for this was ridiculous. So ridiculous that she was a bit suspicious.

"Think nothing of it." He re-insisted. "What's your name, miss?"

"Elizabeth," she said cautiously.

He nodded, smiling. "We are now even, my beautiful _Isabel. _You've graced my establishment with your beauty, which is enough payment for me."

She couldn't help but blush madly at his words. She'd never received such a complement. The man was almost _too _good - granted, he owned a sex shop that seemed to double as a private gentlemen's club, his _job_ was to be flattering. "Th-thank you, Antonio, you're too kind."

"I only ask that you come and visit me sometime. After the department store closes, we'll be moving our store into Fort Frolic."

Elizabeth nodded slowly. She was unsure of how long she would have to stay in Rapture, but she guessed it was more than one night. She could definitely pop in and possibly pay the man back. "I'll see you there."

"Of course, _Isabel_."

And so Elizabeth walked back out into the atrium, now a Rapture gal. No more sticking out like a sore thumb... this was good. Now to figure out what the hell the Luteces wanted her to do. Basic information about where exactly she was would help.

She headed into a nearby newsstand and picked up the day's copy of the _Rapture Tribune_. The headline screamed: **FONTAINE'S TO CLOSE TOMORROW: To Be Converted into a Prison for Lackeys of Frank Fontaine.**

The date was November 13th, 1958. Alright... basic Rapture knowledge told her that the city fell on New Year's Eve of the same year. So the city was soon going to disintegrate. Elizabeth's mission... she didn't exactly have long to do it. Being around after the collapse probably wouldn't be good.

Also on the list of "not good" is being in a department store that was to be turned into a jail. What was the purpose of that? Elizabeth shook her head in wonder. Rapture and Columbia had a lot of similarities after all - both cities were damn weird. Especially their rulers. Andrew Ryan was all about free-markets and "the sweat of your brow". He'd probably cast out Antonio for the kindness he'd done Elizabeth - dismiss it as altruism.

But that was all irrelevant. Getting out of this place was first on the list.

_"Fort Frolic." _The mysterious voice commanded. _"You must go to Fort Frolic, and observe the Gambler."_

_"Who are you?" _Elizabeth thought back. _"Why should I trust you?"_

The woman's voice laughed softly. _"I have an interest in helping you. And considering that you have no other choices, you're going to have to listen to me."_

_"Your first directions led me to a gimp store. How do I know you aren't screwing me over?"_

_"Yes, I _did _send you to Cupid's Arrow. And in there, you received a free outfit and a high-standing friend in Rapture."_

Elizabeth mulled over the thought, while she realized she was just staring off into space. It probably looked strange. She set the newspaper down on the rack. _"Okay... whatever you are, I'll do what you say for now."_

Alright - she had a new objective. Fort Frolic. She didn't like that the person in question was known as 'the Gambler' - it reminded her a bit of someone else she'd met.

Now, just to find her way out of this shopping center, and into the actual city.

* * *

"Hey there, baby? What are _you_ doing without a date?"

Elizabeth set her head forward and tried to ignore her rather annoying admirers. She was nearing the exit to this place, and she'd rather not cause a scene. Maybe Antonio had done too good a job - six young men had already asked to take her out. This was getting ridiculous.

She stepped into the main city of Rapture for the first time - well, second, if you counted the Songbird drowning... and she tried not to think of that. She was in Market Street - it seemed to an middle class area of the city. Fort Frolic could've been anywhere. She needed to find a way there. Asking for directions would probably be the best bet.

She looked around her quickly, scanning for any stalkers. Okay, she was good. She approached a woman who was enjoying a cigarette. "Um... excuse me, miss?" Elizabeth asked uncertainly.

The woman looked up at her, and Elizabeth immediately knew something was a bit off. The woman's brown eyes seemed just a little too timeless - her golden hair was weaved like a basket, which probably too bizarre for even Rapture. Her brown eyes just seemed timeless, in a strange sort of way.

"Oh. Apollo, look at _this _young lady!" She said, grabbing a man behind her. This 'Apollo' wore a blue pinstriped suit and some strange glasses - ones with blacked-out lenses. "She's quite the dish."

The other man nodded and smiled. His teeth were a blinding white. Even with his concealed eyes, the man was quite handsome. "Show some manners, Demeter! She's Jackson and Chase's girl. The one who can open Tears."

_Jackson and Chase's girl._

"Excuse me... who are you?" Elizabeth asked cautiously, though she had a good guess. Who else would know about her AND have names of the Ancient Greek Gods?

The charming man stuck his hand out, and Elizabeth took it. "Apollo's the name. God of the sun, music, poetry, prophecy... and I'm quite adept at pleasing a woman."

Maybe Elizabeth should've swooned at the god's subtle flirting, but frankly she didn't care. Apollo was what most women would consider _cute, _she suspected, but Elizabeth didn't see why so many women thought men were attractive. They were so... boring. Women could be beautiful, they could express themselves more, and dresses were nicer and more alluring than anything a man could wear. Women were more tender, _softer..._

She decided that she wasn't a romantic person.

"And I'm the much more humble Demeter," the goddess interrupted, breaking the two's handshake. "Goddess of the harvest."

Elizabeth coughed awkwardly, unsure of what to do. Should she bow or... something? She had no idea. "Well... um... what exactly are you two doing down here?"

Apollo sighed like it was obvious. "The two of us are on a date, duh!"

"You just _had _to pick Rapture," Demeter muttered.

The sun god looked at her exasperatedly. "What are you talking about, darling? Rapture's as classy a city as any."

"If your definition of 'classy' is militant atheism and cheap prostitutes, then I suppose this might as well be Dubai."

_"Someone's _feeling left out because a part of the city wasn't named after her." Apollo said under his breath. If he was trying to be discreet, he failed horribly.

Demeter looked at her current date with rage. "Everyone else has a slice of the pie! _Apollo_ Square. _Adonis_ Baths. _Neptune's_ Bounty. Point _Prometheus. Hephaestus_ Energy-"

"You're rambling."

"_Mercury _Suites. _Minerva's_ Den. _Dionysus_ Park. Even _Persephone _Correctional Facility! Now that is just an insult!"

Apollo patted her back delicately. "I'm sure Andrew Ryan dedicated the forest to you."

"Even so, wouldn't 'Demeter Gardens' have a nicer ring to it than 'Arcadia'? And even then, in a year or so the Saturnine are going to drink cups of blood and ADAM in _my _name down there!"

"Excuse me!" Elizabeth interjected, desperate for an answer. How could the immortal Greek gods of legend be so... frivolous? "I just need directions."

Apollo turned back the frustrated young woman with a sheepish grin on his face. "Sorry, baby. Poor Demmy here can get pretty jealous over this stuff."

"Shut it, Apollo!" The goddess snapped back, clearly frustrated.

"Anyway, why are you asking us? You can see..." a look of realization crossed his face. "You've lost your powers, haven't you? You can't see the Sea of Doors."

Elizabeth nodded slowly in confirmation. "The Luteces did... something to me. Sent me here. I just need to go to Fort Frolic."

Apollo gave her a scandalous smile. "What would a kind young lady need in a place like that?"

"I just... I just need to." _A voice in my head told me to._ "Can you tell me where to go?"

Demeter sighed and dragged on her cigarette. "It's simple bathysphere travel to over to Cohen's place, my dear. That'll be one Mark for the access."

"I don't have any money." The woman responded with shyly.

Apollo shook his head. "For a pretty lady? I'll help you out." He handed her a small plastic card, which Elizabeth studied. The thing had a strange set of lines on it, along with the logo of a sun. "Credit card. It has... I think around forty or so clams on it."

"Clams?"

"The airhead means Rapture currency. Marks." Demeter clarified.

"Airhead? I resent that." Apollo said pointedly. Elizabeth couldn't for the life of her understand how the two of them were courting if they always seemed to be at odds. "Anyways, this thing should get you started in Rapture."

Elizabeth nodded gratefully. "Thank you, sir and ma'am."

"Don't call me sir. It makes me feel old."

_You're 3,000 years old... _She only nodded again, slowly. "Okay. I'll be on my way now."

"Do have fun, baby!" Apollo called as Elizabeth walked away. "The Rabbit awaits!"

The Rabbit, huh?

The words Apollo had said stuck with her: _"What would a kind young lady need in a place like that?" _Rapture was clearly a city of sin, and with a name like "Fort Frolic" Elizabeth doubted that the place would be the center of morality in the underwater metropolis.

Regardless, it was time to find this 'Gambler'. And apparently 'the Rabbit'.

She didn't like such vague titles such as that, as it reminded her too much of 'the Lamb' and the 'False Shepard'. Hopefully this venture turned out better than the... _thing _up in Columbia.

The Bathysphere ride was quick and quite scenic. Rapture was about ten times more beautiful than Columbia - Elizabeth loved the water. Granted, with her Sea God roots and the fact that she'd lived in a city in the sky her whole life, that was a given.

As she stepped into Fort Frolic, the voice sounded in her head. _"Sir Prize is your destination, Anna. Inside of Poseidon Plaza."_

_"My name isn't Anna."_

The voice didn't respond.

Oh well. So... Sir Prize. Judging by the name of 'the Gambler', she had to guess it was a casino of some kind. And it was inside of Poseidon Plaza. Couldn't be too hard to find. But as she'd learned in Columbia, things were seldom as easy as they appeared on the surface.

She emerged into a fine hallway, which was full of people who looked fairly upper class. A sign denoted that Poseidon Plaza was through a main atrium, so she began to walk that way. All around her, posters advertised art, records(whatever those were), and musicals by a man named Sander Cohen. Well, he seemed to be a true renaissance man.

Poseidon Plaza was buzzing with activity, as the wealthy talked amongst themselves excitedly about a performance at Fleet Hall. Some famous musician appeared to be playing at nine. Good - maybe then the casino would be less full. Sir Prize was at the far end of a hallway, and so Elizabeth made her way there.

As she entered, the voice spoke once again. _"This is where my help no longer becomes necessary, Anna. You'll know what to do."_

_"Who are you? How do you know these things?"_

_"I'm a friend. Don't you worry about it, child. Just find Him and do what comes... naturally to you. Goodbye. You'll not hear me again."_

_"No! Don't leave!"_

No response.

Great. She'd lost her only ally, which had been a detached voice in her head. She had no Tears, no cosmic knowledge. She was even more vulnerable than she had been back in her tower.

_Her tower..._

* * *

No... NOT AGAIN...

Elizabeth looked out of her window and out at the distant city of Columbia, and she sighed contently. The day was July 6th, 1912.

Just then, something creaked above her.

She looked up at the door Songbird used curiously. _No... no... _Elizabeth pleaded desperately. She didn't want to see... _this... _again.

The door snapped, and a figure plummeted downwards. An arm reached out desperately and grabbed for a railing. Elizabeth approached it with horror. Why?! Why was she forced to relive these moments? It wasn't fair!

The man looked up at her. He managed to stammer, "Uh... hello."

Elizabeth screamed, and the stranger fell to the ground with a thud. She felt herself take aim with the book in her hands and fire. It hit him square in the forehead. _Ha. Take that you baby-selling son of a bitch. _It felt pretty good to get some measure of petty revenge.

Every time Elizabeth had these visions, she was in first person but was forced to view. She couldn't influence what was happening. She was merely reliving the past.

"Hey, knock it off!" The man pleaded. Another book was fired, but this one missed to the left. "Will you stop it? WILL YOU STOP IT?!" She grabbed a book off the top of a nearby pile and approached him, literature raised and poised to attack.

"Who are you?" She demanded.

"I'm a friend." Percy reached out to try and touch her shoulder. A bad move.

"Get away!" She tried to hit Percy with the book, but he blocked it with ease. She tried once more, but was quickly winded.

She dropped the book and really looked at the figure. He... She'd never seen another person before. He couldn't seriously be _right there, _in her tower - she was the only one in the whole place. Yet... here this man stood.

She held out her right hand and slowly inched towards him, wanting to know if it was truly there. "Are you real?" She barely asked, grazing her father's stubbly face with her fingers.

"I'm real enough, miss. Now, we should-"

Songbird screeched, and Elizabeth pointed wordlessly to the golden statue behind Percy. She remembered being absolutely terrified at that moment.

"No, wait! I'm getting dressed!" She desperately cried out to her warden. The whistling died down and she turned back to Percy. "I'm sorry. He's very possessive."

"Who? Your father?"

_IRONY._

She hugged herself and snorted. She shakily said, "Ha. I wish. I don't have parents."

"I know that feeling. I never knew my real father growing up." The two strangers stood in silence for a few seconds before Elizabeth finally made eye contact.

"You never told me your name," she said softly.

"I'm sorry. I'm Percy Jackson." Percy stuck out his hand to shake. She took it shyly.

"And I'm... Elizabeth."

Percy darted around in his pockets, and finally drew out a key. "I'm here to bust you out of this place."

"Oh my god!" Elizabeth grabbed the key out of Percy's hand, and examined it. She looked to the large door in the corner of the room. "Thank you, Mr. Jackson! Let's go!"

Suddenly, a loud screech was heard.

* * *

Elizabeth shuddered, and she was back in Rapture.

She hated this. Shards of Columbia hit her all the time, usually at the random. The Luteces had never bothered to tell her exactly why this happened, or why it was Columbia in particular. Frankly, she didn't care. She loathed them, and could only put up with them.

She shoved aside the thought and entered Sir Prize. It was, in fact, a casino, just as she had predicted. The place was showy, thick with cigarette smoke, and full of sweaty men who were wasting all their money. Fairly standard for a place like this, she supposed.

Then a thought hit her: _The Gambler. _This place was obviously _full _of gamblers. Excellent. So how was she-

"Sally, just a few more minutes. I'm winning."

Elizabeth's blood froze. No... it couldn't be...

Her head snapped to the voice, and she visually confirmed her suspicion. A man with black hair and sea-green eyes - probably in his mid-twenties, if Elizabeth had to guess. He wore a fine suit, had a cigar in his mouth and was looking down at a little girl. Couldn't've been older than ten.

_What was HE doing there?_

"But... but Percy..."

"I know, kid. Just give me a few more minutes, okay?"

Percy Jackson turned back to his game as Sally turned to go look at the rest of the casino. She dissapeared into the crowd.

"Who's that girl, Jackson?" An old man to his left asked.

The man who had no business being in Rapture only shrugged. "She's just an orphan I've been looking after."

"City's been rotten with 'em since Fontaine went down. Still, Jackson, I didn't peg you as a soft type. Why'd you do it?"

Percy shrugged. "I don't know, Sullivan."

Elizabeth tried to blend in and control her breathing. A version of Percy Jackson was here - young, and still a gambler. How appropriate.

She felt a stir in her stomach as she looked at the man. He was going to die. Make it eighty-seven. She'd have to figure how he existed in Rapture or what exactly his connection to this orphan was later. Or maybe as she went.

She hadn't really psychologically terrorized a version of him in a while. This would be... beyond satisfying.

Only thing now was to get close to him.

"Goddammit..." She heard her mark mutter. Percy was looking down at his card dejectedly as a pile of chips in front of him was dragged away. "I'll cut my losses. I'll see you guys some other time, eh?" He looked expectantly behind him. "Alright, Sally. Let's go."

The girl was gone.

"Sally?!" He said louder, rising to his feet. He began to scan the crowd with panic. "Come back here!"

Elizabeth tried to peek through the mass of people to find the child. She imagined that the girl'd be of use to her in getting rid of Percy. But Sally seemed to have dissapeared.

As Percy began to desperately ask people around him if they'd seen the child, Elizabeth stepped outside back into Poseidon Plaza to see if she'd getting jostled back out here. Nothing. How strange.

She sent a panicked look back into the casino to see where Percy was. The man was still desperately poking through the crowd, trying to find the girl. Elizabeth didn't want to be seen by him until it was necessary, so she slipped back into the casino and tried to survey from the shadows.

Percy moved back to the poker table and looked at the man to his right expectantly. "She's gone."

"Well what do you want to do about it?"

"You're a COP, Sullivan! Help me out here!"

Sullivan wiped a bead of sweat off his forehead and looked up at Percy with an exhausted expression. "Look, Jackson. Girls have been dissapearing all over the city, I don't know what you want me to do."

"Look into it!"

"Why do you care so much about some orphan?"

Percy turned back to the policeman. "I... I don't know. Just help me out here."

He left the table again, before bending down. He rose back into Elizabeth's field of view with something clutched tightly in his hand, and he walked out of Sir Prize.

Elizabeth moved quickly to tail him. She'd never had to do this - being omniscient and all greatly helped in the pursuit of countless other Percy Jacksons. But this one was going to be tricky. She couldn't make an easy escape with Tears here, so she'd have to kill him where no one would find out. And then... what? She wasn't sure if any bathyspheres led to the surface, so her best bet was even a long shot.

Sally... Elizabeth could use the orphan as bait to lure out Percy. Yeah, that'd work. Finding the little girl was next on the list.

Percy got into the bathysphere heading for Market Street (of course, back where she started) and Elizabeth barely managed to get on the same tram as he. Thankfully the ten or so other pedestrians allowed Elizabeth to keep a low profile. The submarine boarded at Market Street, and after a short walk Percy headed up a set of stairs and into a small building. The sign above it read "Jackson Investigations". So he was a private investigator. Interesting.

She knew where Percy lived, which was good. Now to figure out where Sally was. Elizabeth yawned and stretched her back, realizing she was tired. There was bound to be a hotel somewhere around here.


	3. Two: And the Songbird Sings

Dreams. _Damn dreams._

Elizabeth was on the street in New York - twenty-first century New York. This must have been what Percy had seen everyday before the device took him back.

"Why are you doing this, Anna?"

She spun around to see Percy - but not any Percy she recognized. This one was younger than her, maybe seventeen or eighteen. He wore an orange t-shirt with Greek letters and denim pants. This time period really did have the strangest clothes._  
_

Percy gazed sadly at Anna. "You're my daughter - my own flesh and blood, and you're killing me over and over again. Why?"

Elizabeth took a few steps forward, closing the gap between the two so they were only a few feet away. "I know you're only in my head. You... you _never _leave. Please leave me alone."

The teenager only kept up his demoralized look.

She stomped her foot. "You don't have the right to... to ask me why."

"I'm your father."

"No!" Elizabeth pushed him. "You're just... you're just... you're not my father. My biological father is dead. I killed him. You're just some part of my brain that I can't seem to turn off."

"You never told me why you're hunting me down. What did all those different versions of me do to deserve that, hmm?"

Elizabeth shook her head furiously. "You always deserve it. What did the million million Percys do to earn their second chance with Anna? Nothing. They'll keep drinking and gambling."

Percy only shook his head, and a sly smile slipped onto his face. "That's not it."

"Yes it is!"

"Anna, whether or not you'll admit it to yourself is your business." Percy reached out and put a hand on her shoulder, which she didn't shrug away. "But you can't deny the truth."

* * *

Elizabeth woke up, covered in sweat.

She took a deep breath and peeked over her sheets, momentarily forgetting where she was. A window to her right glowed blue... Rapture. That's right. She was in Rapture. She was stripped of her multiverse powers. She was hunting down a version of Percy Jackson. Right.

She shook her head sleepily, trying to toss aside the dream from last night. She got those all the time now.

The covers were thrown off and she slowly dressed, trying to figure out what her next course of action was. Sally was an obvious target, but she was missing. Oh well - a good breakfast would probably help her figure this out.

A nearby cafe was open, but just before she entered, she heard someone say behind her: "Have you heard about all those children dissapearing?"

Elizabeth leaned against the cafe window, trying her hardest to look inconspicuous as the conversation went on between two air-headed women. "Oh, it's a shame. Only girls, too."

"You know what my husband told me?"

"Why should I believe anything your husband said?"

"He's one of Andrew Ryan's top men."

"Oh... you never told me that!"

"Anyway, he said it's because Fontaine's orphanages shut down. Something about needing them for ADAM production, I think."

ADAM production? What was that? "That doesn't sound good. What would a bunch of eggheads need with sweet little girls?"

"I don't know. Labor, maybe?"

"Chills the spine."

"Well, I suppose the best we can do is donate to Sander Cohen. He's been helping orphans find homes - safe away from all this kidnapping business."

_Sander Cohen._

Something seemed off about what the women had said. There was no way that children were dissapearing and this Cohen character was aiding orphans without some sort of connection. Anyway, Cohen was her next mark. She remembered that he was the artist from Fort Frolic. She needed a way to figure out exactly what the man was up to.

And an idea came to her.

* * *

"My sweet _Isabel, _what a pleasure!" Antonio Rodriguez rushed forward to kiss both of Elizabeth's cheeks before stepping back to look at her.

She stood there, red-faced, unsure of what to say. This man flattered her far too much. "It's great to see you too, Antonio. How do you like the new storefront?"

He waved his arms grandiosely at his establishment, which had just opened that day. She remembered that he'd said his new location would be in Fort Frolic, and it wasn't a difficult find. Now, she just had to hope the man would be willing to help her.

"It's excellent, my darling. Business so far today has been slow, but it's still early yet." He looked down to check his cash register. "Anyways, how can I help you?"

Elizabeth pulled out the credit card Apollo had given her. "I'd like to pay you back for the outfit. It's only fair. The Rapture way."

"You needn't worry about that, _mi querido." _Antonio's act began to fade as his eye twitched. "But, eh... if you insist..."

"Take it." Elizabeth forced the card into his hand. "How much would it be?"

"Nine marks. But, since you're such a nice girl, I'll cut it to eight and a half."

"Thank you very much." As Antonio put the transaction through, Elizabeth cleared her throat and took her chance. "Do you know Sander Cohen, Mr. Rodriguez?"

"Antonio, my dear." He corrected, as he handed Elizabeth the credit card. "And I've met _el Conejo_ once or twice, but nothing... substantial, no."

_"El Conejo?" _Elizabeth asked. She didn't know Spanish past the basics; she had only really spent time with French and Mandarin.

"The Rabbit, as some have taken to calling him." _The Rabbit. _Apollo had said she'd have a run-in with him. "He's a very famous man, who's very busy."

Elizabeth took a step forward and ran a hand through her hair, and sighed dramatically. She pursed her lips in a pout. "Oh, that's just a shame. I really wanted to meet him."

Antonio stood up a bit straighter, and looked at the girl in his shop. Elizabeth didn't like doing this, but her looks were always going to be one of her weapons. The suave Hispanic's breath hitched. "Oh, _Isabel. _You're looking to get his attention. He's a strange man with strange tastes, and has a habit of missing out on talent when it's... right in front of him. You won't get far with him."

Elizabeth took another step forward and smiled. "You must think I'm foolish, Mr. Rodriguez. Just another girl with stars in her eyes, wanting Mr. Cohen to put her name up in lights."

"No! No, my dear. I'm sure you're a practical woman. Talented as well."

"No, you were right." Elizabeth turned to leave the shop, walking slowly to the exit and swaying her hips.

"Wait! Wait, _Isabel!" _Antonio cried.

Elizabeth suppressed a smile and turned to look behind her. She was playing the man like a fiddle. "It's fine, Mr. Rodriguez. I understand."

Antonio rushed out to her, with a worried expression on his face. "Oh no, _mi cariña. _I'm sorry for doubting you. I'll... I'll try to see if I can talk to Cohen. Come with me, and I'll vouch for you."

* * *

**TWO WEEKS LATER**

"No, Elizabeth! Dig deeper! BE THE MUSIC!"

Cohen sat in the Fleet Music Hall front row, studying his new protege. Elizabeth was red-faced and panting from the vigors of the madman's "training" - and by training he meant absolute perfection every time.

She'd managed to secure a place at Sander Cohen's side as a both his understudy and his muse. In the short amount of time that the two had worked together, Elizabeth had determined that the man was absolutely crazy. The man's methods were unmistakably insane.

She continued to sing _Rise, Rapture, Rise, _for the forty-second time in a row. Maybe if she'd known exactly how demanding Sander Cohen had been she would've just walked into Percy's office and shot him without worrying about consequences. But her association with the Rabbit wasn't one that could be easily weaseled out of.

The stupid national anthem of Rapture required some very high notes - a bit out of Elizabeth's vocal range. But still, with the man staring up at her with those beady eyes of his and his paintbrush mustache, she didn't really have a choice.

She finished did everything in her power to not look absolutely exhausted. Cohen sighed. "I suppose that will do for today, my songbird. You're improving."

Elizabeth flinched at the nickname he'd given her. Of course, it just had to be _songbird. _"Th-thank you, Mr. Cohen."

The artist turned to his other disciples behind him. "What do you think, boys? I think she's nearly ready for a performance of her own."

The four men behind him grumbled in assent, not daring to cross the madman. "Why, I think the decision is unanimous. We'll schedule a show for you... hmm... probably just after Christmas. What do you think of that, my songbird?"

It wasn't a question. Elizabeth put on a false smile and nodded vigorous. "Of course! I won't let you down, Mr. Cohen!"

"No," Cohen agreed. "You will most certainly not."

Once the other four men had left the two alone, Elizabeth joined her master at crowd level. "Mr. Cohen... is it true that you've been helping Fontaine's orphans find new homes?"

He nodded graciously. "Of course. Poor little birds. Truly is a shame."

"How've you been aiding them? Sending them to new couples, eager to take in new children?"

Cohen's eye twitched suspiciously. Elizabeth took a step back in anticipation of the worst. "Has anyone ever told you that you're far too curious for your own good, Elizabeth?"

"I-I'm sorry, sir."

He looked at her another second before nodding in satisfaction. "I believe you truly are. Anyways, my songbird, you had best begin preparing for your show. I'm sure the men of Rapture will simply adore you."

* * *

**DECEMBER 29th, 1958**

_Seven weeks. _She'd been in this damn city for _seven weeks._

Tonight was the night that Cohen had scheduled her concert at Fleet Hall. And as she sat in her room, still without any makeup or in costume, she was sweating profusely. If she had a bad performance, all the good will she'd built up with Cohen would absolutely crumble.

She couldn't use her good looks on him; he was perverted enough to prefer men, which had greatly lengthened her plans. He wasn't easily manipulated like Antonio or Cohen's other disciples. She had to actually _earn _his trust. And the fact that Rapture was going to fall in around forty-eight hours panicked her.

"Miss Elizabeth?" Came a voice from outside the door. It belonged to Kyle Fitzpatrick - another of Cohen's understudies. "Mr. Cohen wants you in makeup and dress. You're on soon."

She took a deep breath. Was she nervous? Hell yes. Not only because she had to win Cohen's favor, but because the amount of people she'd have to perform in front of was mind-blowing. Thousands of people could fit inside of Fleet Hall. The largest audience she'd ever performed in front of was Cohen and his lackeys.

And Percy, in the basement of that bar... _will the circle be unbroken..._

She shivered and shook her head. She couldn't have a flashback now.

"Elizabeth? Are you alright?" Came Fitzpatrick's concerned voice.

"Uh... yeah, Kyle. Sorry. I'll be right out."

ooooooooooooooooooooooo

"You're blushing," Fitzpatrick whispered to her.

Elizabeth indeed felt the blood in her cheeks. Her dress was far more revealing than she would have liked - her shoulders were exposed, the v-neck was too low, and the blue gown was too tight. "I'm not used to the fashion of Rapture, that's why."

"You look great. You don't have anything to worry about."

_You don't have any idea what's at stake here, Kyle. _Still, she managed a weak smile. "Thanks. Wish me luck."

The poor kind-hearted man pined after her so much she actually felt bad for him.

The announcer spoke up. "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Fleet Hall!" Applause roared. "Tonight, we're being treated to a performance by Cohen's newest protege. And when he finds an understudy... you know she's gonna sing sweet. Give a warm welcome to the Songbird!"

Elizabeth stepped out onto the stage and began to sing.

_See the pyramids along the Nile_  
_Watch the sunrise from a tropic isle_  
_Just remember darling all the while_  
_You belong to me_

_See the market place in old Algiers_  
_Send me photographs and souvenirs_  
_Just remember when a dream appears_  
_You belong to me_  
_  
I'd be so alone without you_  
_Maybe you'd be lonesome too  
And blue_

_Fly the ocean in a silver plane_  
_See the jungle when it's wet with rain_  
_Just remember till you're home again_  
_You belong to me_

_I'd be so alone without you_  
_Maybe you'd be lonesome too  
__And blue_

_Fly the ocean in a silver plane_  
_See the jungle when it's wet with rain_  
_Just remember till you're home again_  
_You belong to me_

Fitzpatrick had assured her that the song was famous on the surface, and that the audience would recognize it. The song was slow and rather sad - about loved ones who were separated. Truth be told... it hit pretty close to home, as much she didn't want to admit it.

As soon as she finished, the crowd burst out in applause. She took a deep breath and smiled. Things were going okay thus far. Only an entire set of songs to go.

ooooooooooooooooooooooo

"A toast! To my Songbird!" Cohen cried.

Everyone in the back room took a long drink, including Elizabeth. The concert had just ended, and all of Cohen's people were enjoying drinks in a back stage. The young prodigy had managed to acquire a taste for wine in her short time in Rapture. She thought briefly about a glass of vermouth in a bar in Emporia... the first time she'd tasted the devil's nectar._  
_

"Yes, she did spectacularly." The famous artist said mirthfully, having another sip of alcohol. "My star pupil. FINNEGAN!"

One of his disciples flinched. "Yes, Mr. Cohen?"

"Wouldn't you say Miss Elizabeth is the most accomplished of you lot?" The madman stared at Finnegan coldly, clearly wanting to hear one answer in particular.

Fitzpatrick had once told Elizabeth that Cohen had... _relationships... _with his male proteges. Only Fitzpatrick had managed to avoid the man's eye, and that was most likely because he hadn't been employed with Cohen for long. Needless to say, Elizabeth despised the deranged old artist. "Y-Yes, sir." The flustered man barely said.

Elizabeth had another sip of wine and gave Finnegan an apologizing look. "Thank you very much for the praise, Mr. Cohen. I was wondering if I could speak with you privately."

"EVERYONE ELSE, OUT!" Cohen shouted as soon as she'd finished her request. The other disciples rushed out of the room as soon as possible, hoping to not anger the man. Once the two were alone, Cohen looked down at her with his painted face. "What is it?"

She tried to form her question as best as she could without making her boss go nuclear. "I... a girl close to me was recently taken, Mr. Cohen."

He continued to stare at her evenly, not showing emotion.

"I heard that you were involved with children, and I was wondering if you would know where she was."

She half-expected the man to kill her or something, but his head bowed. "I may know where this child of yours is. But... this is not the right place. There are eyes and ears everywhere... I know. Seek me out on New Year's Eve, in the Garden of the Muses. I can tell you what you need to know then, my Songbird."

She had to bite her lip so she wouldn't squeal from happiness. Her mission was _almost over. _"Thank you very much, Mr. Cohen. I owe you one."

He only nodded. "That you do, my Songbird. That you do."

* * *

Elizabeth laid back on the bed in her Cohen-provided hotel room and tried not to cry.

Her brief moment of pleasure had ended, and now she was broken again. She'd hated every second she'd spent in Rapture. She was alone, vulnerable, overworked...

"Damn you, Lutece!"She threw a dish on her bedside table at the wall, where it shattered. It was only mildly satisfying.

"Now we've upset her."

"Well, it _was _to be expected."

She looked immediately to the two British voices. The Lutece twins entered the room, wearing their matching outfits and looking as smug as ever. "What are you two doing here?" She demanded, picking up another dish, though she knew it was futile. She couldn't harm the two. "Can you let me LEAVE now?"

The two shared a look. Robert gave Elizabeth a sheepish look. "We're quite sure you'll enjoy the payoff."

"Why?" She demanded, the thought dawning on her. "Why would you send me here to kill him? You tried to stop me before, what made you change your mind?"

"I think you'll find that we never instructed you to kill him." Rosalind said, sounding offended.

"We just dropped you into a city-"

"-and you found Percy Jackson."

"You then decided to kill the man-"

"-without a second thought."

"Do you even know who he is?"

"What he's done?"

Elizabeth took a deep breath. She felt like she was being cornered... like when Jack confronted her in New York. She looked at the Luteces with rage on her face. "He's Percy Jackson. That's all the reasoning I need."

Robert sighed a rubbed his forehead. "You weren't this headstrong at her age, were you Rosalind?"

"A girl's emotions run high, brother."

"High enough that she would kill the man who loved her dearly."

Elizabeth sat back down onto her bed, trying to blink away quickly forming tears. "That doesn't change that he's gone. Or-or that he sold me."

Robert sighed. "Did I tell you what I originally planned to do, sister?"

"Yes, Robert. But I suspect you're going to remind me in front of her."

"I was going to send them to Paris right after Comstock died. Then she would have never found out."

"Then she never would've seen all the doors."

"She never would have a reason to hate him."

"Would you have preferred that, Miss Comstock?"

"Not knowing that Percy Jackson was your father-"

"-or that, in alternate reality, he became Comstock?"

"I... I..." Elizabeth stammered, still managing to dam up the tears.

"But perhaps the fact you hate more than anything-"

"-is that the man you grew to love in Columbia is dead..."

Elizabeth stormed to her feet. "GET OUT!" When the two twins merely looked at her with sympathy, she stomped in frustration. "Please. I know you're trying to stop me... I don't care. I'm going to kill him. I've spent too long here to do anything else."_  
_

"We aren't trying to stop you."

"That hasn't exactly worked before."

Rosalind looked at her brother curiously. "What was it that you said earlier?"

"I'm only trying to figure out her motive. What reason would she have to kill all these men?"

"Jealousy?"

"Why would she be jealous of him?"

"No, not of _him. _Of _Anna."_

"LEAVE!" She pleaded again.

Robert pulled a pair of photographs. "Here. One you will need for your business with the private investigator... the other may be of sentimental value."

Elizabeth accepted the two scraps uncertainly, and the twins vanished. She flopped back down onto her bed and examined the pictures that the Brit had given her. The first was of Sally - the blonde-haired girl was smiling up at the camera, holding a doll. She'd need that to show Percy exactly who they needed to find. She set that on her bedside table and turned her attention to the other picture.

She let out a small gasp when she realized what it was... Battleship Bay. There must have been a man with a camera somewhere near the dancing pier. The shot was of her and Percy, spinning wildly and laughing. Right after he'd broken her out of the tower. A tear plopped onto the photograph as she studied it.

"Dammit, Percy..." she said under her breath, wiping at her eye. No matter how many versions of him she killed... _her _Percy Jackson would always stand out. He truly had cared for her in Columbia. He'd rescued her out of the tower, protected her, promised her Paris... but nineteen years earlier, he'd sold her to pay off a debt. Her childhood had been _stolen _from her.

How could she ever forgive him for that?

But how _couldn't _she?

At the end of the day, it was irrelevant. She drowned him. He was dead. All there was now was a million million Percys, all of whom were no more her father than Comstock was. And... all those versions of Anna, who got to have a real life.

Have a father. Have a family.

Things Elizabeth would _never_ get to have.

It wasn't _fair._

She took a shaky breath and set the second photograph on the table. The only resounding question was what a version of him was doing in Rapture. That was far out of the time periods he resided in...

A wetness formed on her lip. Her nose was bleeding... she knew the answer at one point, back when she could see the doors. But now, they were shut to her. And that made her angry. She _needed _to find out more about him.

He had to deserve it... somehow.

* * *

**REVIEWS = MOTIVATION. Also until I can find a legal way to solicit money from children over the internet(obvious sarcasm, if that wasn't apparent enough), it's the closest thing I'll ever come to receiving payment for my work. PAY ME IN LOVE.**


	4. Three: A Girl that Needs to be Found

_"No... nonononono! ANNA! ANNA!"_

_"Shut down the machine now, do it! "_

_"GIVE ME BACK MY DAUGHTER!"_

_"My god, watch out! No!"_

_..._

A bad dream.

Percy woke up, coughing. He'd forgotten to put out his cigarette, so he'd slept in dirty air. He struggled to catch his breath and he finally stamped out the stick in his ashtray. He coughed thunderously one last time in an attempt to get it all out of his system.

He glanced at his clock: nine thirty-three in the morning. It was New Year's Eve. Right...

There was a knocking at the door, and he perked up. "Hello?" Came a voice from the outside. It clearly belonged to a woman.

"It's open." Percy said weakly, shifted his position and then wiped a puddle of saliva off his desk. He also quickly snatched Sally's dollhead off his desk... not the best advertisement if the girl wanted to hire a thug. And he really was a thug, no matter how you looked at it.

The silhouette of a young woman sauntered into his office, concealed by shadow. He mentally rolled his eyes at how she moved - swinging her hips, trying to entice him in. Many of his female clients did that, and it never worked.

He could never look at a woman the same way after Annabeth died.

That thought only drew in more questions... his recollection of his past before Rapture was hazy at best. But he definitely remembered that it was after her death that he decided to emigrate to the underwater city.

No matter. The woman moved to his window and looked out of it, crossing her arms and leaning against a nearby table. "What can I do for you?" He asked cautiously.

"How about we start with a light?" She asked, holding out a cigarette. Reasonable enough.

Percy rose to his feet and approached the woman. She turned towards him as he snapped his fingers and a small bud of flame grew out of his forefinger - Devil's Kiss. A Plasmid. "You got a name, miss?" He asked as the woman's features became known to him. She had big blue eyes and black hair, along with sharp, angular features. Pretty. Most men would've done anything to get into the sheets with her, he reckoned.

Something about her was vaguely familiar... though he couldn't place it.

"Elizabeth." She said with a sly smile as she used Percy's Plasmid to light her cigarette. She dragged, and then blew out a cloud of smoke. "You can call me Elizabeth, Mr. Jackson."

He took the light provided by the lit cigarette as the chance to take in her appearance. She wore a simple white blouse, a black skirt, and fishnet stockings. Around her neck was a curious blue pendent depicting a bird. The woman couldn't have been older than twenty - still young in comparison to Percy's twenty-six years of age.

"Well, you already know my name." He said weakly. He gestured to a chair his desk. "Take a seat."

"Oh, I don't think that'll be necessary, Mr. Jackson." She said. "My contract doesn't require any sort of long explanation."

"No, I insist." Percy went underneath his desk and into his wine cabinet - yes, he kept a wine cabinet under his desk. He wasn't exactly a model citizen. "I always treat my clients to a drink. Can't work for someone without knowing them."

"I imagine that would make some of your clients rather upset."

"You seem like a decent sort. I doubt you'd get upset. Anything you'd prefer in particular, miss?"

"A vermouth, if you have it."

Percy quickly poured two glasses of the wine - one for himself, and one for Elizabeth. He took a sip and watched Elizabeth put her cigarette in his ashtray. "So what can I do for you today, miss?"

Elizabeth handed him a photograph. "There's a girl who needs to be found. Maybe you've seen her?"

Percy studied the picture and nearly spit out his mouthful of vermouth. It was... Sally. Definitely. The girl with blonde hair and blue eyes was clutching a doll... the doll whose head Percy had in his pocket. "This girl..." he said cautiously, not wanting Elizabeth to know about their connection. "This girl is dead."

A brief look of surprise flashed across the client's eyes. "You know her?" She asked softly.

He shook his head, quickly formulating a lie. "You'll see dozens of her type down by the docks or the slums in Apollo Square. Orphans." She raised an eyebrow and she took a big sip, nearly her whole glass. "With Fontaine's charities shut, there's no place for 'em."

"But her you know?" She asked, setting down an empty glass and picking up her cigarette. She got to her feet and began moving for the door wit her back turned to him.

Percy took the opportunity to look at the the doll's head. "As I said, the girl's dead."

"Lost."

He sighed and rubbed his face. "Look, I don't know where you're getting your information-"

"Lost isn't dead." Elizabeth said, turning to look back at him over her shoulder. "Name your rate, I'll pay you for this work..." she gave him a playful smile. "But you'd do this one gratis, wouldn't you?"

"I don't follow."

"Something tell me you will." She opened the door to his office and went out onto Market Street.

Percy rushed to his feet and cursed. If this woman actually had a lead on Sally... he'd have to follow her. He opened a drawer and pulled out his pistol, made sure it was loaded, and then slid it into his concealed pocket holster. He also shoved an EVE hypo into his pocket (capped, of course). He finished off his drink and emerged into Rapture.

"Seems as though my instincts were correct." Elizabeth noted. She was leaning on the railing just outside his office, with a slight smirk on her face.

"You said you know where this girl is. Care to enlighten me?" He asked.

"I don't know where exactly she is." She raised a hand to cut him off before he could argue. "But I know someone who does. Follow me."

Elizabeth led them done the stairs and then onto the main "avenue" of Market Street. "So what's this girl to you?" He couldn't help but ask.

"What I need from her is my business, but I know where to start looking." She glanced back at him with sapphire eyes displaying arrogance. "Something tells me a man with your... particular talents could be useful."

"You mean my tendency to put holes in people?" He asked.

Her eyebrows scrunched together. "You certainly live up to your reputation, Mr. Jackson."

Percy shrugged. He was somewhat well-known in Rapture as someone who'd take jobs that no one else would be willing to take - the big-wigs often had him take their dirty work. He tried not to apply morality to what he did, since most of the time when he did that he found himself on the bad side of right and wrong. "It's just a job, miss. Though I'm inclined to ask why you need a gunman in order to recover some little girl."

If she needed a hired gun, then Sally was probably in trouble.

"As I said before, my business with the girl is my own." She said guardedly. "I get the feeling you don't ask for a lot of particulars in your normal cases, Mr. Jackson."

She definitely knew that Sally was significant to Percy... he couldn't help but wonder if she'd picked it up from what he'd said or if she'd known before.

Elizabeth led him towards an elevator - the one that led to High Street. "Where're we headed?" He asked.

"The man we need to see is in the Garden of the Muses."

"How do you know-"

"My sources are my own, Mr. Jackson." The woman took a drag on her cigarette. "If you have better information towards the whereabouts of your girl... I suggest you avail yourself of it."

Percy couldn't think of a comeback, so he entered the elevator wordlessly.

As he went to press the button, he asked once again, "what does this-"

"When was the last time you saw Sally?" Elizabeth suddenly demanded.

Taken off guard by this, Percy managed to say "What?"

"She was taken from you, wasn't she?"

"How do you know this?"

"She was taken from you, down at Sir Prize." Percy opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out. The strange woman continued to look at him without faltering. "You were playing the tables and-"

"She dissapeared." He said through gritted teeth.

"And?..." She asked innocently.

Percy rubbed his forehead. Where did the girl learn this stuff?... "A week later, a cop friend of mine, Sullivan... he said they found her floating near the docks."

"You see the body?"

"Look-"

"Did. You. See. The body?" She took the absence of a reply as a chance to continue talking. "In case you haven't noticed, Mr. Jackson, Rapture values children, not childhood." She flicked her cigarette onto the elevator floor and put it out with her stiletto. "There's a profit to be made and men who make it. I'm taking you to one of them."

Percy's vision blurred and several loud bangs reverberated in his head. He shuddered and gripped the elevator.

"Mr. Jackson, you alright?" Elizabeth asked, with actual concern in her voice.

"Yeah. I just... I get these spells sometimes. It'll pass." He vowed, rubbing his forehead. He figured it was all the splicing - he didn't understand science all too well, but he figured that whatever was going on with his DNA was probably causing the headaches. That was fine - he'd take headaches for a fistful of fire any day.

A waiter looked at them expectantly. "Refreshments for you, sir? Madam?"

"We're fine, thanks." Percy said. The man teleported away to go and serve the other customers. "Alright, Elizabeth. You're in the lead. Show us the way."

She pushed through a small, underpopulated cafe and into a main atrium area. He took the opportunity to examine his client closely. She simultaneously carried herself as innocent, arrogant, and at least a little playful. She practically radiated haughtiness. Percy needed to find out more about her... the beautiful enigma was breaking the standard mold of the Rapture woman.

And she knew about Sally. How he'd lost her. How could Elizabeth have known that?"

Sander Cohen's club, the Garden of the Muses, loomed at one end. Percy balled his fists. "We'll find my contact inside of that club." Elizabeth said, looking up at it.

"Great. What does that lunatic have to do with Sally?" He asked nobody. He knew at this point that Elizabeth wasn't giving answers, and he didn't want to push. "Alright. Let's go."

He walked up the red carpet to the entrance. "'Private party - no entry without invitation.'" Elizabeth read off a nearby sign.

"Yeah? Well, we'll see about that." Percy muttered to himself. He pounded on the door.

A small slit opened up at eye-level. A man's shadow was on the other side. "Which business do you represent, sir?"

"Uh... what?"

"Which business?"

Percy honestly had no idea what to say. "Umm... Jackson Investigations."

The man scoffed. "Mr. Cohen does not truck with private detectives. Masks of invitation went out to craftsmen only."

"I know Mr. Cohen." Elizabeth said, sounding frustrated. "I can promise you that we're expected."

"Oh! He said we were expecting you... but the gentlemen cannot come in. No mask for him, no entry." The slit closed.

Percy breathed out in frustration. "Stuffed shirt."

His client stamped her foot in frustration. "Dammit, Cohen..."

He looked at her curiously. "How do you know Sander Cohen?..." He had a facepalm-worthy realization. Christ, was he blind? "You're the Songbird, Cohen's newest singer, aren't you?"

The woman's hair and eyes were precisely the same. And that strange pendent... the one the mysterious woman performing had on was the same that Elizabeth had on. Still, she stammered a response back in denial. "No, I'm not."

"You definitely are." Her saw her eyes glaze over in anger. "Not that that's an insult, miss. I was at your show a few nights back. You sing well, and I imagined all the bachelors liked you too."

She unintentionally flushed, giving away her last bastion of defense. "Fine. Just don't tell anyone."

"Anonymity of the client." He promised. He glanced at her sideways. "Why hide it? You're quite good. Imagine how you could manipulate men by using that as your ammunition."

She smiled at him, but it was without humor. "I can assure you that I'm adept enough at controlling men without such a handicap."

The coldness in her voice sent a chill down Percy's spine. This girl was not innocent - not in the slightest.

He noticed something in her sapphire orbs he hadn't seen before... "You shouldn't have eyes like that." he blurted out without a second thought.

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"You... you're too young to have eyes like that." He said gravely. Her eyes were cold and nearly devoid of emotion. "Lonely eyes. They're too harsh... too wise." She'd seen death. Working with guilty men and women over the years had easily tipped him off to things of this nature... and hell, he had eyes like that too. Shattered. Broken.

Elizabeth shrugged. "I'm just a normal girl, Mr. Jackson. Think what you want."

She... she had to be right. Percy was just being paranoid. He nodded quickly before taking a deep breath. "Right... well, we have to get one of those masks."

"They went out to local artisans." Elizabeth confirmed. She pointed to a sign beside the door. "'The business of Rapture is business.' Sponsored by the Artist's Struggled, the Golden Rule, and Rapture Records. We'll need to scope out those stores."

Percy nodded. "The Golden Rule is just over there. A jewelry store." He lead the way, Elizabeth staring at the ground two paces behind him. He decided to try and make conversation once again. "So what brung you Rapture, miss?"

"A man."

Really? Curiouser and curiouser... "What lucky man would that be, hmm?"

"It wasn't that kind of man, Mr. Jackson."

Wait... what? "Well, what then?"

"There's a debt that needs repaying."

He squinted at her, knowing full well that she wasn't being entirely truthful. "I've known my fair share of shylocks. You're no shylock."

She looked at him with a sly smile. "Wasn't that kind of debt."

This half-vixen, half-shark was starting to confuse him even more_... FOCUS. You're getting Sally back, don't cock this up._

Percy reached out for the handle to the jewelry store when he felt a delicate hand his shoulder. He turned to see Elizabeth standing there, looking concerned. "Invitations to parties in the Garden of the Muses are highly coveted. No one is just going to give us one."

"What do you propose we do, then?" Percy asked.

"I'll distract the shopkeep while you take a look in the back. Now, come on."

They emerged into the store, Percy taking the lead. He walked up to the middle-aged store owner and said, "Hey, mister? The lady's got some questions for you."

"Of course, sir."

The man opened a board on his desk... that would give Percy access to the back of his shop. If the mask was anywhere, it was bound to be back there. No he just had to wait for the man's back to be turned...

"I'm interested in this piece." His client said softly, pointing to a ring in a display case. The case was on the far wall... if Percy timed it just right, he could probably get what he needed.

"Ah, yes. You've an eye, miss." The shopkeeper walked over to Elizabeth... but with his position, Percy was still in the corner of his vision. The private dick just leaned against the front counter and waited for a chance to make his move. "It's a natural sapphire and diamond, eighteen-carat gold. Fully hallmarked for Paris, 1882."

Elizabeth's face soured. "That's a lot of fine talk about a stolen ring!" She suddenly cried.

"I... I beg your pardon?" The man definitely seemed confused. He turned to her in full... and Percy couldn't help but stay and watch the action go down.

"Right out of her coffin in Twilight Fields! Did you think we wouldn't notice?" Elizabeth was legitimately outraged, despite this being nothing but a lie. The shopkeep looked enraged.

"I assure you madame I-"

"The assurances of a grave robber are of no interest to me. If you hand the ring back now, this will stay between you and me." Elizabeth was not backing down at the sight of a man much bigger than her, which Percy appreciated. It was refreshing to see such a fierce filly in a city full of star-eyed fools.

The jeweler forgot Percy's presence entirely, so the detective began to move behind the desk. "You walk into my shop, you talk this trash... hit the bricks, you tramp! Or I'll see to it they hit you!"

Oh, you did not just threaten Percy Jackson's client.

He rushed over to the confrontation, to see that the man had grabbed her by the arm. "Get your hands off me!" Elizabeth said determinedly. She got a quick punch off on the side of his face and gave him a swift kick to his jewels. He crumpled to the floor in a heap.

"Nice work." He muttered to the woman, who looked at him with a smile. "It's best we're gone when he wakes up."

"Go look for the mask. I'll see to it that our friend here stays dreaming." She said, poking his face with her stiletto.

After a quick sweep through the bags on his shelves, the detective swore under his breath. "Great. Hey, Elizabeth!"

"Yes?"

"No luck. Let's head on to another shop."

A silent walk up to the Artist's Struggle helped Percy clear his head. He glanced at his young client before pushing open the door. "Same as before?"

"Sure."

The art gallery was long and vertical... perfect. If Elizabeth could lure the clerk to the far end, getting access "backstage" would be remarkably easy. He took a second to examine the various works of art on the walls... he didn't get it. It all looked like splotches of paint to him. Elizabeth must have thought the same way, because she hissed in his ear, "Beauty is the art of the beholder, huh?"

"Guess so."

Percy approached the bizarrely-dressed man behind the counter and slipped him a Mark. "You see that dish I walked in with? How about you give her the star treatment?"

"Of course, sir." He accepted the currency and walked over to Elizabeth, who was studying something that looked vaguely like a face. "Intriguing, isn't it? It's a Sander Cohen original. He calls it 'Miasma'."

The client blushed and looked at him nervously. "I'm sorry, I-I know precious little about art."

She had the tone and pitch of a little girl... geez, this broad could work men like nothing else. "Well, how does it make you feel?" The clerk asked softly.

"I... I don't want to open my mouth for fear of what foolishness might tumble out." A very slight smile was tugging at the edge of her deep red lips.

Percy inched closer the the desk, making sure that the man's attention was focused solely on Elizabeth. "Would you like me to tell you what it means?" The man asked delicately.

Elizabeth gasped in happiness. "Oh, would you? Oh, I would like so much to understand!"

He slipped behind the desk and started to peek through the back catalogs. He nearly fell over from relief when he saw the an ornate box labeled "Cohen". He ripped the package open to find... nothing.

Goddammit. Well, one more store.

He walked cautiously into the main gallery, to see that the clerk was chattering away about some other painting. Elizabeth saw Percy out of the corner of her eye and cleared her throat. "Mr. Schmidt, you've given me so much to think about... I feel... I feel a trifle swoony, I... can I come by tomorrow for further education."

"O-Of course, madam. We always have time for those who appreciate art."

Percy led the way out of the shop and looked at Elizabeth curiously. He wondered briefly if she could take a joke before he put on a feminine voice and said, "Oh, Mr. Schmidt, I feel a trifle SWOONY..."

She gave him a one-armed playful shove. "Any luck with the mask?"

"Nope."

"Well, then I guess we're headed for Rapture Records."

"Yeah." Then began to walk downstairs side by side, with Elizabeth slowly humming a tune under her breath. "By the way, nice job with the curious girl routine back there. Nearly had me convinced."

"You think so?"

"Sure. You oughtta go into acting once you're done with singing. You could kill it."

Elizabeth ran a hand through her hair thoughtfully. "You want to see another one? I could use another persona on this last poor sucker."

"Do it."

They entered Rapture Records, and Elizabeth made straight away for a record player that played Beyond the Sea. She hummed in a very low and loud tone... very attention grabbing. "You want to help out the little lady?" Percy asked the man behind the counter.

The clerk's eyes darted to the girl in his store before saying, "But of course."

Elizabeth was going to play this man like a violin.

"What is this piece?" She asked in a low and sultry voice. Percy froze in his tracks as the shopkeeper was instantly enthralled.

"It's umm... it's Trenet, of course, but covered by Mr. Reinhardt." The man was wholly tongue-tied.

"It's lovely." Elizabeth said, looking at the man with a smile. "Isn't it lovely?"

"Oh... umm... yes..."

She closed her eyes and let out a small purr. "Music just does something to me, especially in this vein... it's almost... primal. Like part of us exists before thought and before action... purely sensual." She slid a hand over her chest and shivered.

_Holy shit._

"Yes... certain music... touches us... in places..." the shopkeeper began.

"...that we never knew existed." Elizabeth finished, smiling once again. She closed her eyes and swayed to the slow tunes. "Can you turn it up?" The man didn't hesitate in cranking up the volume. "Oh, yesss... it's just so... powerful and masculine... one just feels the sudden urge to surrenderrr..." The purred ending and the subtle roll of her shoulders...

_HOLY SHIT._

Percy shook his head, trying to clear away the impure thoughts. He had a mask to find. He could question his client later on where she'd learned... THAT. He quickly moved behind the counter and instantly thanked god that the music was so loud... he'd knocked over a bunch of stuff while searching. His shaking arms and weak legs were at faultt for that one.

He finally found the box, and inside of it was a mask. Finally.

It was an ornate white and had some rather ridiculous looking rabbit ears, which he mentally rolled his eyes at. Cohen. What a deranged man.

He emerged back out into the shop with his invitation tucked under his arm. Elizabeth saw him out of the corner of his eye and starting panting, as if overwhelmed. "I must go... I must go. For even one more note shall prove my undoing..."

Percy led the way out and triumphantly showed her the mask. "Finally." She said, her voice still locked in sultry mode. She coughed once before saying, "I mean, good. We've got it."

"Where the hell did you learn how to do... THAT?" Percy asked, waving his arms around generally.

She smiled coyly. "What ever do you mean, Mr. Jackson?"

"You know what I mean. That clerk back there would've sliced his wrist if you asked him to." He shook his head in wonder. "That was fine work with those shopkeepers. You've got a bit of the grifter in you."

"For that... you can thank my father." She said softly.

"Really?"

"Let's just say he was a man comfortable in a variety of roles."

"He was an actor?"

She looked up at Percy like a mirthful smile. "Sure."

Elizabeth took the lead towards the Garden of the Muses, while Percy was still trying to figure out exactly who this girl was. "You were right when you said you didn't have to rely on the 'famous' thing." He commented as they approached the club.

She shrugged. "In my line of work, that kind of thing comes in handy."

Percy slipped on the mask and tried not to feel stupid as he knocked on the door. The silhouette on the other side said, "Ah, very well. My Cohen awaits your participation downstairs.

The door was opened, and Percy was blinded.

The entire room was a blinding white - the walls, the floors, the ceiling. "Wow... I'm not going to lie, I'm afraid of what's going to happen if I move." Percy muttered to his client.

"Come on. It's just decoration."

She took the lead towards the far wall, so Percy decided to continue his train of questions. "So you work for this guy... what's he like?"

"About the same as he appears to the public, I'd imagine." Elizabeth muttered, slowing to match Percy's pace. "He's... eccentric. Once he gets an idea in his head... it's all over. No questions asked. Don't bad-mouth his work either - I shudder to think of what he might do to someone who does that."

They reached a guard on the other side of the room who cranked a lever, which opened a door in the peerless white room. A narrow hallway opened up, completely devoid of any light at all. "Mr. Jackson?" Elizabeth asked cautiously, with a quiver of fear in her voice. "Where are you?"

"Right here. Come on, let's just keep walking forward, maybe we'll-"

BANG.

Lights turned on in front of him, ringing the hallway in the shape of his mask - a rabbit's head. He jumped in surprise, while Elizabeth seemingly expected it. "Just a light, jeez. And here I thought you were a big, tough enforcer."

"Shut it, miss."

A door slid open at the end of the dark hallway, which led into the club. Despite it being not even noon yet, there was a healthy amount of people all looking down towards... something. "C'mon. Down this set of stairs." Elizabeth urged, pointing to a spiral.

All around him were bizarre works of huge plaster art - everything seemingly themeless, like random body parts and shapes. This crap passed as art? Percy didn't understand it.

As they descended to the base-level, Percy finally saw what the people were looking at. Two people - one dressed as the sun, the other as the moon - were dancing and were attached to... harnesses? Odd, but Cohen WAS crazy.

"Dance, DANCE! MOVE!" Bellowed a voice, and Percy finally saw the deranged artist. He was swiping a paint brush wildly at the canvas while studying the dancers. "Be the conduit! OPEN YOURSELVES TO THE MUSIC! To the spirit of the ETERNAL!"

His face suddenly soured. "No, no, no, no! Why do you fail in this fashion! You're embarrassing me! Fitzpatrick, the stick!"

"No, please!"

"SANDER FOR GODS SAKE-"

An electrical current ran across the metal plate they were dancing on, electrocuting them. They let out screams of agony while Cohen merely said, "There shall be no failure on my canvas!"

This guy was bat-shit INSANE.

A chill ran down Percy's back. This man had something to do with Sally... this could not be good.

Elizabeth grabbed his arm and dragged him towards the artist. "Come on, we're nearly there."

She led the detective towards the man's 'stage', where he put his face in his hand. "There's no room in Rapture anymore for the artist..." he lamented sadly.

Percy slid the mask off his face so the two could see eye to eye. But before the private dick could say anything, Cohen was literally inches away from his face. "WHO ARE YOU?" He demanded. His face was red; he wore bright lipstick and had a painted-on mustache.

The man startled Percy so much that he actually babbled out, "Percy Jackson."

"Is thaaaaaaat right?..." The deranged artist gave him a sideways look before taking a step back. "My... this one's a real... biscuit. Isn't he a biscuit, ladies?"

Percy tried his best to ignore the giggles that came from all around the room. He said evenly, "I need to ask you a few questions."

"Questions, yes... it is the work of man to ask, and the work of the artist to answer."

Percy actually recognized the quote... a woman from his earlier life quite liked it. He tried desperately to remember her name... Rachel? Yes, that was it.

Cohen's attention turned to Elizabeth. "Ah... I see, you've answered my summons, my fair Elizabeth."

The client pulled out the photograph and showed it to the artist. "You've seen this girl, haven't you, Mr. Cohen?"

Sander Cohen laughed madly, before saying, "We artists see more than most..." he turned to Elizabeth with a sickening smile. "You're more than you claim to be, my little Songbird... are you not?" She only glared at him in response. "Watch out for this one, Jackson. She's much too smart for her own good... she'll take you where you don't want to go."

Already there, pal.

"Just tell me where the girl is." Percy pleaded.

Cohen studied the detective before sighing. "I can tell that this girl is... important to you. It's a shame... so many children, flit, flit, flit away!" He turned back to Elizabeth with a sinister look on his face. "I know where the girl is... and I will send you to her."

"Thank you, Mr. Cohen." Elizabeth said, nearly breathlessly.

"All I ask in exchange... is a dance."

The crowd started cheering, "A dance! A dance! A dance! A dance!"

Elizabeth's eyes darted around the room looking nervous. Percy leaned in close to Cohen. "Listen to me, you son of a-"

"Mr. Jackson." His client said. He noticed that she'd drifted towards the 'stage'.

"What?" He asked exasperatedly, really not wanting to do this.

She held out her hand and said fearlessly, "Dance with me."

Percy quickly looked around the room, seeing no escape routes. He DID NOT dance. If word got out to his usual clients that Percy had been persuaded by Sander Cohen to make a fool of himself... Sally was more important to him than that.

He moved quickly to Elizabeth and took her hand. The two formed into a slow-dancing pair, with Percy doing everything possible to avoid her eyes. He was sure that if he looked at her, he'd remember that he hadn't showered that day, and that he sucked at dancing, and that she did an excellent sexy voice, and that-

Christ, what was he thinking of? This girl was a client, nothing more.

"What do you think Cohen's customers do with the children?" Elizabeth whispered to Percy. The two had been shuffling for around 30 seconds now. Cohen was making some big speech in the background, but it was easily tuned out.

"I don't know." Percy tried very hard not to think about the Little Sister program that the whole city was whispering about... children being used as ADAM factories. Implant a sea slug into the belly of a little girl, and she'd produce thirty times the ADAM a slug would.

Dammit, DO NOT THINK ABOUT THAT.

"You don't think it has something to do with the Little Sisters, do you?" She asked softly, as if reading his mind.

"I don't think so." Percy said quietly, praying that his suspicions weren't correct. "Besides, I know Suchong doesn't have her."

Elizabeth looked at him curiously. "How?"

"I tied him to a chair and asked him."

"So what?"

"...for fifteen hours..." Percy admitted, feeling sheepish.

She gave him a sideways look before saying, "I don't know what to make of you, Mr. Jackson."

"NO NO NO NO!" Cohen suddenly wailed.

The detective looked at him angrily. "Listen, we're not gonna keep-"

"FITZPATRICK!"

The last thing Percy heard before his vision went black was a pained scream from Elizabeth.

...

_**"I see suffering in you, my Songbird... you cannot forgive a debt, not even a sunken one. But I know how to shine a light on your pain. A moth will become a butterfly..."**_


End file.
